


Pick Up The Pieces and Go Home

by DestielRuinedMyLife (destielruinedmylife)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 05:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18243467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielruinedmylife/pseuds/DestielRuinedMyLife
Summary: Piecing your life together after a war isn't easy.





	Pick Up The Pieces and Go Home

**Author's Note:**

> WIP, 1/?

Looking down at Snape’s dark, huddled form bleeding to death on the floor of the shrieking shack, for a split-second Harry almost expected to feel satisfaction. If not that, then at the very least an utter lack of emotion. But something was wrong. The moment he began to watch the life ebb from the body of his loathed professor, the dull certainty that he was missing something washed over him. The expression on Snape’s face was not right. The way he looked at him, right into Harry’s eyes, was not right. The way Harry’s heart lurched slightly for no discernable reason- that was not right. Something was off. He took the extracted memories that Snape had so desperately thrust upon him, and as he left to investigate he had grabbed Hermione’s arm and said, “Keep. Him. Alive. I don’t know how, but I know you can. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Ron begun to sputter but Harry rounded on him. “Why? Why would he give me his memories??” Ron gaped. “I dunno mate, maybe he wanted you to hear him yell at you one more time, who ca-“ but before he could finish, Harry was gone.

Hermione looked around desperately after Harry left, wondering how she was going to even begin to follow his instructions. Ron was already shouting. “Bloody hell- what do we care for a Death Eater, especially Snape! We should be back there fighting! I don’t know what Harry was thinki!” He was cut off once again, this time by Hermione. “Nor do I. But until we do, I’m going to do what he asks. Ron, I need you to go, right now, to Snape’s storeroom. There will be anti-venom bottles there. Go and bring them back.” Ron stood rooted to the spot until Hermione spun around and stared into his eyes, her own flashing. “I don’t know why, okay? But Harry asked, and unlike Death Eaters we do not sacrifice people and ask questions later! Harry believes something is wrong here so I will give him the benefit of the doubt. Now GO!” Ron went. 

Hermione’s hand was pressed against Snape’s hemorrhaging neck, as Harry’s had been until he’d made a break for the castle. Snape was losing blood fast despite her best efforts, and Hermione feared she would fail in her task. Unsure of what else to do, she began to shout at him. “Stay with me! Harry will be right back, and he doesn’t want you to die, so just wait, okay?” The words sounded ridiculous even as she said them, but she could think of none better. His eyes began to dim. She grew desperate. “SEVERUS!” At the sound of his name he twitched. He turned towards her and finally saw her. Had she been in potions class instead of in the midst of a battle of her life, she would have never dared address him by his first name. But in that moment she had hoped it would shock him into awareness, and it had worked. They stared at one another. 

Snape finally fell unconscious. Hermione knew he was on the verge of death when Ron suddenly re-appeared beside her cradling about 30 vials in his arms as if they were one giant baby. “What. I didn’t know what any of them was, did I? So I just grabbed them all.” Hermione smiled slightly and started digging through the vials. She separated the most promising ones then turned to face Ron. “Go back. They need you, and I’m fine here.” Ron’s jaw dropped. “Are you really going to miss the battle, to save HIS neck?” Hermione raised her head. “No, actually. I’m going to DELAY my involvement in the battle as long as it takes to complete a task that Harry assigned me. Is that okay with you? Do I have your permission?” The last two sentences were steeped in sarcasm. Ron knew when he was beat.

By the time Harry had seen all that the pensieve had to give, the shrieking shack was empty. He didn’t know if Snape was alive or dead, didn’t know where his friends had gone… but the place was empty. Harry returned to the battle.

Snape awoke groggily, in his own bed. He looked blearily around, wondering if everything had been a dream. He was in his chambers- perhaps it had all been a nightmare. Perhaps Voldemort had not come back and he was simply a professor, waiting for Lily Evans’ son to come of age so that he would be at Hogwarts for him to protect… he had hoped so much that the boy would look like Lily and have the mannerisms of his childhood friend. That he might have her red hair and her calm, kind demeanor. Instead he had looked up from the head table that day and seen James. James in the miniature. He’d noticed the eyes, of course he had. But while Lily had been calm, Harry was boisterous. Where Lily had been thoughtful, Harry was reckless. Where Lily had always had a kind word at the ready, Harry was a smartass. His father, through and through. 

Severus had tried to make himself believe that he hated Harry for that…for being the spitting image of his father, whom Snape had despised. But that was only partially true. He hadn’t truly hated Harry for being like James- he hated him for not being like Lily. It was as if the one scrap of hope he had that part of Lily was alive in the world was stripped away… perhaps if Potter had been a girl. Snape knew deep down that if Harry had been a girl he would never have been able to treat him the way that he did. He would have protected the child either way, but if he had not been a boy he would have been kinder… what that said about him, he neither knew nor cared. Lily was gone, and perhaps he had hated James even more than he thought he did.

With those scattered thoughts, Snape drifted back into sleep. For the next few days (weeks?) he was in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of someone changing the dressings on his neck, lifting his head up to drink various things and sponging his face, neck, and chest. He didn’t know how he came to be almost undressed, but as he spent much of his time unconscious that was one of many thoughts he was unable to hold onto for very long. He slowly grew stronger and more conscious. He woke up one day (night?) and pulled himself up into a sitting position, his head feeling the clearest it had since the night Nagini had attacked him. He grimaced and reflexively put his hand to his neck. He felt fresh, dry bandages and minimal pain. Someone had been taking very good care of him. He looked around the room, wondering who his savior had been, and also why he was not in the hospital wing. A moment later he had his answer.

Hermione entered the room carrying a tray, upon which rested food, water, and a few vials filled with liquid of varying colors. She stopped short upon seeing him sitting up. “Professor!” Snape regarded her with an air of confusion and suspicion. Hermione however, continued her walk to the side of his bed with no other signs of surprise. She put the tray on the bedside table and sat on the bed next to him, much to Snape’s discomfort. “How are you feeling, Professor?” Snape looked at her eyes, feeling as though he should remember something important. “I’m feeling impatient.” Hermione snorted. “Big surprise there.” Snape’s eyes narrowed. She was a student! Why was she speaking to him with such impudence? Severus said haughtily, “Careful Miss Granger, I don’t think you want Gryffindor paying the price for your sarcasm with house points.” Hermione tried to contain herself but it was no use. She burst into laughter and held her sides as she tried not to fall off the bed.

When she finally calmed down, her laughter fading into hiccups, she turned to face the malevolent glare on Snape’s face. “Oh look, I’m sorry, it’s just… oh Severus, I was trying to make you comfortable calling you “Professor”. You are not my professor. I am done with Hogwarts- we all are. We have been caring for you for months now. There are no house points- hell, no houses. And none of us are your students any longer…although I can’t pretend hearing you scold me didn’t make me a little nostalgic.” Hermione giggled a little then finally contained herself completely. “Just sit still.” She began to change Snape’s dressings methodically and he watched her with a still confused yet calculating glare. She looked up at his face and sighed. “I know you don’t remember, but we’ve been through this. You have to drink what I give you and do what I ask you to do. Otherwise you won’t get better.” Snape looked mildly surprised. “We’ve discussed this? Am I meant to believe that I’ve had discussions or interactions in the past few days that I no longer remember?”

Hermione regarded him sadly. “It’s been almost 6 months, Severus. Don’t you remember?” Snape was shocked, but not as shocked as he thought he would be. All of the swirled memories came back to him and he knew that they could not have all occurred in a short space of time. The progression of his healing also told him that he had been out a lot longer than he felt he had been. He looked up at Hermione. He choked back his irritation, his frustration, and his pride. He knew they would not serve him here. In a weary, defeated tone he finally asked, “What happened? Tell me everything.”

Hermione started with the events at the Shrieking Shack. She told him about Nagini attacking him (which he remembered very well), about Potter taking his memories to the pensieve, about Harry ordering her to keep Snape alive in the meantime. Then she told him about the remainder of the battle. About their victories and their losses, of their triumph and of their grief. She told him of Harry’s victory over the Dark Lord. Snape listened to all of it, staring at the ceiling throughout. When Hermione had finished, he finally spoke. “Why am I here?” Hermione looked confused. “What do you mean?” “Why am I not in the hospital wing?” Hermione shook her head. “Oh believe me, I tried. You would not have it and to be honest, Madame Pomfrey didn’t want you there any more than you wanted to be there. She’s been giving me supplies.” Severus looked at Hermione quizzically. “So why has the burden fallen to you?” Hermione smiled wryly. “Would you believe I was the ONLY volunteer?” Snape sighed deeply. “And of course the golden girl of Gryffindor couldn’t pass up an opportunity to volunteer for extra homework.” “Anyway”, Hermione continued as if she hadn’t heard him, “I was just teasing, Harry has been in here quite a bit, and so have Madam Pomfrey and Ginny.” “Ginny?” Snape turned his head sharply. “What in the world does Ginerva Weasley care about my well being?” “Truthfully I don’t think she does.” replied Hermione, getting off the bed and beginning to gather empty trays and bottles. “But as she’s my best friend and Harry’s girlfriend, we sort of roped her into helping.” Snape snorted. “Lucky me.” Hermione paused at the door and turned around. “Yes, actually. Lucky you. Get some rest, Severus. I’ll check on you in the morning.”

Left alone with his thoughts once again, Snape turned everything over in his mind. He marveled inwardly at Hermione’s easy tone with him, her casual use of his first name and the fact that she actually teased him. He really had lost his touch. No matter, he had maybe a month of healing left then he would be back on his feet and terrifying first years again in no time. Hermione had also told him the amnesia was the product of some of the stronger healing potions he was being given and not the product of his wounds, and so eventually as he was weaned off of them his memories would once again stay put. 

Everything she had told him made sense and once she had begun talking, he had even gotten a mild sense of déjà vu. He wondered how many times she had told him the story of the war, and if it was that difficult for her each time. He had heard her voice break and notice her turn her head away as she reported the loss of the Weasley twin, and of Remus and Tonks. Despite himself, he was genuinely sad to hear of it. He had never had much use for any of the Weasleys but the twins had been so close, and so full of life. And losing Remus was a tougher blow than he would have ever thought. He had always been the kindest of James’s little circle, and he never had so much as a sharp word for Snape, even when Snape threw him under the bus the year they taught together by outing him as a werewolf. Remus had been a good man and now that Snape came to think of it, the only person from his past who had still been alive. He couldn’t claim to have given the tiniest shit when Sirius perished but Remus, Remus had been different. Snape sighed and slowly drifted off, memories of his younger days swimming in his mind.

During the next few weeks, Snape was able to retain more and more as the stronger potions wore off. He never forgot the conversation he’d had with Hermione, so she was spared having to recount the events of the Battle of Hogwarts again. One thing he had noticed was that he never saw anyone except Hermione and Madam Pomfrey. He couldn’t claim to care much, but he was mildly curious. “They stopped coming after you became conscious most of the time.” Hermione answered his unasked question one day after she came to bring him food. “I didn’t say anything.” said Snape in surprise and irritation. “I know, but you were wondering.” said Hermione simply. “It’s not that they- well Harry anyway- it’s not that he doesn’t care about your progress” she continued a bit awkwardly, “it’s just that he thinks you would see his presence as gloating, or pity or something, and possibly throw a tray at his head.” Snape snorted. “Good instinct. And Miss Weasley?” Hermione grinned. “Her exact words to Harry were, “If you don’t have to take care of the wretched bastard any longer then neither do I.” Snape rolled his eyes. “Charming, as ever. Well tell her from me that no one ever asked her to begin with.” “I would” said Hermione, “except that I DID ask her. I needed some help, you were very high-maintenance at the beginning you know.” Snape stared at her darkly. “You were not required either. You should have just left me where I was.” He wasn’t sure why he said it, but the words were out before he could stop himself. Hermione looked at him with the same sad expression. “We would have. We thought you were a lost cause. Harry decided you were worth saving.” Snape felt a cold anger grow in his chest. “And now I owe my life to the boy-who-lived. Just what I always wanted.” “You know no one calls him that anymore,” said Hermione brightly as she once again took her leave. “more like, The Messiah.” She laughed at Snape’s murderous expression and left the room.

Three weeks later Snape studied himself in the mirror. All things considered, he didn’t look so bad. Pale and wan, but that was nothing new. His 38 year-old body had taken more hits than many twice its age, but outside of some pretty impressive scars it was holding up fine. The ones on his neck were fairly gruesome, but not even a shadow of what they should be. He owed that, he knew, to Hermione and the others who had cared for him at the beginning. Only incredibly quick work could have prevented him from being horribly disfigured. Not that it mattered, he thought. Who cared what he looked like, really? In fact, the more gruesome his scars the less he’d have to actually work to keep people away from him. Between his greasy hair, his scars, and his scowls he wondered what else he would have to do to keep people from trying to be nice to him. Minerva had been positively friendly since his recovery and he didn’t much like it. The truth was, if Snape would do something about his hair, stop dressing like a death eater and scowling like a murderer, he would be a rather striking man. But Merlin forbid he open himself up to anyone finding him attractive or compelling in any way.

He smoothed his black robes and wondered, not for the first time, what the fuck he was going to do now. Hogwarts was no more. After rebuilding he had assumed they would reopen, but everything was at a standstill. The wounds from the war were still fresh and opening Hogwarts was deemed “insensitive”. Many considered the site to be a historical landmark, a site of battle and mass death. Never mind that the living had their livelihoods to return to. Snape sneered. Sentimentality. The weakest of human emotion and he knew it well. What he didn’t know was that many, Hermione and Harry among them, were fighting desperately at that very moment to have the school reopened. 

A few months later Snape was sitting in his usual chair as if nothing had changed. But of course, everything had changed. Where Albus Dumbledore had sat, Minerva McGonagall presided. There were students filling the great hall, that was true, but there were no more house tables. There were still remnants of houses- indeed he saw the green and silver robes indicative of his house standing out among the colors of the other houses- but there was no longer any division. Hufflepuff sat next to Slytherin, Gryffindor chatted with Ravenclaw. Blaise was sitting with Neville, of all the fucking combinations. They were discussing something, but Snape could not imagine what it could possibly be. The idea that Neville would come back to Hogwarts to complete his formal education was absurd- he was a legend now, after all. Slayer of Nagini, Voldemort’s most beloved creature and incidentally, a horcrux. But he also had a grandmother who had very strict ideas about education, and while Potter and Weasley had traipsed off to fulfill other dreams and obligations, Neville had remained for his final year. He had replaced Potter as Hogwarts’ local celebrity, and was handling it much better than Potter, at least in Snape’s view. Draco and Hermione had also stayed on- Hermione because she couldn’t bear the thought of not finishing her education and Draco, let’s be honest, because home was not a pleasant place for him. Father in prison, mother wasting away with grief. Draco preferred being largely shunned at school to being utterly alone at Malfoy Manor. Hermione seemed to have taken an interest in him, in what way Snape did not know, but they were often seen together walking the hallways, deep in conversation. 

Snape did his best to maintain his old demeanor when teaching his classes but found he was really only capable of it when teaching the younger years. Teaching the seventh year class made him feel self-conscious and endlessly guilty. Looking up from his desk and seeing a war hero he had spent many years abusing, his disgraced godson, and the woman who had saved his life was more than his sneering demeanor could withstand. So he had them doing mostly independent study. This did not suit Hermione.

“Come in!” Snape barked from inside his dungeon office. Hermione strode in without hesitation and sank down in the chair opposite him. “I really don’t appreciate this.” she said. Snape started. “What can you possibly mean?” Hermione glared. “I mean,” she snapped, “that you are not even trying to teach us. I know it must be strange. But we are all adults now and we are here to learn, not to judge you.” Snape leaned forward and began to launch into one of his famous soul-scorching diatribes, but then faltered. He sighed deeply and sank back into his chair. “I don’t know what any of you can learn from me at this point.” he said, trying his best to sound dignified. “You defeated Voldemort. You fought an adult’s battle and you WON. What on Merlin’s Earth can you possibly hope to learn from me. I, who failed. Who would have died, if not for…Potter and his friends.” He spat. “Potions.” answered Hermione simply. “I don’t care about your self-pity, or your guilt, or your ego. You are the best potions master I’ve ever heard, or even read about. Better than Dumbledore, better than anyone.” She smiled slightly. “Harry spent an entire school year cheating off of you. I want what’s in your brain. So get over it.” Hermione stared into his eyes for a moment, then marched out of the room. Snape knew she was right, and was as proud as he was shamed by the encounter. She wanted to learn? He would show her the most difficult potions and rituals he had to offer.


End file.
